


Maple Syrup

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-16
Updated: 2005-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-30 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15106394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: The many uses for New Hampshire Maple Syrup.





	Maple Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Maple Syrup**

**by: Sophia**

**Character(s):** Josh, Jed  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Humor  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Disclaimer:** These characters aren't mine. I just use them for my own enjoyment and put them back. Oh and the Sugar Shack is owned by the Gowens and is in NH but I've never been there, I just needed a place to use and they got picked.  
**Summary:** The many uses for New Hampshire Maple Syrup.  
**Written:** March 9, 2004  


"Joshua!" I look up from the budget numbers to find my boss's boss in my doorway. I, of course, stand up. 

"Yes, Mr. President. Was there something you needed?" Because really, I don't have enough to do. I think if you look really hard you could find a square inch of desk space on which to put another project that I may some day find time to look at. God I'm tired. But since my options these days are sleep or sex with Donna, I don't think anyone can fault me for being exhausted. 

"Well, I believe I received a package of yours by mistake." Thank God this isn't about work. It's actually very nice to have a non- work related conversation with this man. He's articulate, funny, and astoundingly brilliant. When he's not talking about inane trivia or State and National Parks, I love talking to him. 

"Really? Why would you get a package by mistake? Isn't it the job of like 20 people to make sure you only get the right mail? You have your own private mail code. FDR's, right?" I may mock in public, but I always thought that was nice homage to someone we all admired for truly attempting to leave no one behind. 

"Yes, but it's apparently unheard of for anyone other than myself to order New Hampshire maple syrup, so when a gallon jug was delivered from the place where I get mine, it didn't seem to matter that your name was one it, it came to me." Oh… No! I can't believe this is happening. Please don't tell me he wants to talk about my gallon of maple syrup. I can't have this conversation with him. 

"Oh, well thanks for making sure I got it, Sir. I'm sure you have a lot of work that needs your attention." Please, please, please go read a report on terrorist activities at the South Pole or create a trade embargo with Nova Scotia. Just give me my package and go. Please. 

"No, actually I have some time before my next meeting and I'm curious to know how you found out about the Sugar Shack. The Gowens have been friends of our for years, but theirs isn't the first place people think of for maple syrup, not that I'm not pleased you're aware of the superiority of New Hampshire maple syrup over that made in Vermont or Maine. So tell me Josh, what are you going to do with a gallon of maple syrup?" My life is Hell. It was all going so well and now I'm in Hell. 

"Eat a lot of pancakes?" I look at the President hopefully. Just let him believe me and I'll find a way to create a million new jobs, I'll personally feed the homeless, I'll create peace in the Middle East, just let him believe it's for pancakes. 

"Josh, when was the last time you had a pancake?" There was a time that I would have taken great pride in the fact that the President of the United States of America knew me well enough to know I'm not a big fan of breakfast foods. Not anymore. 

"It's been a while, Sir." Like since he made us all eat a big pancake breakfast when we were up at the Farm the last time. I was sick the rest of the day. 

"So what are you really doing with it?" I can't lie to him and he's going to know it if I try again. But I can't tell him the truth either. It's embarrassing enough for me. It'll mortify Donna when she finds out. 

"Don't make me have this conversation with the leader of the free world, please Sir." Let it drop. Let it drop. I chant in my head like I have some chance of swaying him. 

"It's not for eating, is it?" It's eerie watching the light bulb go off over his head as he realizes what the maple syrup will be used for. And let me just say I'm shocked that he figured out what I'm planning to do with it. I would have thought that a good Catholic guy who was going to be a priest wouldn't think about those kinds of things. 

"Not of food per se." Just because he gets it doesn't mean I'm going to say anything more than what's absolutely necessary. 

"Huh." He's thinking about it. No, that can't be right. He can't be thinking about it. Because if he's thinking about it, he's thinking about one of two things. Option number one is that he's thinking about Donna and me, and quite honestly I don't want anyone thinking about Donna naked but me. And the other option is he and the First Lady, and that's worse than thinking about your parents having sex. 

"I'm sorry, Sir." I can't be right. He's not thinking about naked women and maple syrup. He's thinking about the maple syrup industry in New Hampshire. He's thinking about fall and all the nice things about the North East. No naked women at all. Hell, who am I kidding, he's a Democratic President; there hasn't been a single one that didn't think about naked women all the time. Except maybe Carter. But then again, maybe he was really hot for Rosalynn. Oh God, I have to work with this man. 

"No, that's alright Josh. Interesting idea. Never thought of that. Well, I have that meeting to get to." He's leaving with my syrup. He can't leave with my syrup. Donna and I have plans. 

"Sir, my maple syrup?" If I have to live with the memory of this conversation for the rest of my life, I at least want to take my maple syrup home and use it. Tonight. 

"Sorry Josh, but I think I'll keep this to give to Abbey." No. No. No. Bad visual. Not good. Not good. Must scrub brain with bleach. No. No. No. 

"Oh God." I slump back down in my chair and wait for Donna to return. She's not going to believe this.


End file.
